years," she grumbled, tugging at her surgical stockings as she sat on the
bench, raising her eyes to the sky above the Thames, "fifty fucking years
ago, it was."
A young boy
sat next to her, putting the remainder of a jam sandwich into his mouth.
listening to me, you dozy pillock?"
staring intently at her gnarled face, hairy moles and liver spots, and those
unpleasantly thick black hairs under her chin. She lifted her stick and
pointed up to the moon. It was a dull and grey afternoon, but it was
obviously sunny somewhere as the crescent shone like neon.
years ago they put a man up there, see?" She continued, "And now look at us,
breaking the fucking law being on the same bench we are, just because the
stupid fuckers can't cure a cold."
than a cold, grandma, it's..."
fucking virus," the old lady interrupted, "and what do you think a cold is?
It's a fucking virus."
The young boy
smiled as a squirrel sat at his feet, looking upward, as if it understood
what delights lay in the unopened packet of crisps sticking out from his
that fucking thing, boy," she snarled, blocking his hand as he reached for
his pocket, "rats with fluffy tails, that's all them dirty little fuckers
The boy placed
his hands back on his knees and looked down at the squirrel.
muttered, "you'd best go now."
"Yeah. Go on,
fuck off! Fifty fucking years. One small step for man, my arse."